Squib vs. Students: the thoughts of Filch
by Lady Minako
Summary: Filch reflects upon the term "Squib"


Author's Note: My first fic, please be kind with the reviews! Although this is under my   
penname, I unfortunately cannot take full claim, credit, or responsibility for this work. half of this FF.N belongs to the twisted mind of fellow Harry Potter  
obsessed zombie and good friend of mine, Magoo. Please review this work, any flames will be used  
to light our science homework on fire. And review Magoo's works too, I've read some and she's pretty  
good! (Insert shameless plug here)  
  
Disclaimer:yada yada yada, any characters, names, ideas, or anything else you recognize belong to  
the literary goddess herself, J.K. Rowling. Basically, you recognize it, it ain't mine. Anything  
you don't recognize, 'tis mine, m'dears, tis mine.  
  
Spoilers: Minor Book 2 detail, Filch as a squib   
  
  
Squib vs. Students: The mind of Mr. Filch  
  
by: Lady Minako (with some help from Magoo)  
  
  
  
I pace the corridors, hearing all these students speaking about their magical powers which  
I long for. Speaking of spells, hexes, and jinxes, bah! How I hate them all! It all started when I was   
a mere 11 year old boy, excited about coming to Hogwarts for the first time. My dad was so proud of me,   
having yet another wizard in the family to train during summer holidays. Well, from my first day  
at Hogwarts, I knew it had been a mistake and I was not meant to be there. I was Sorted into   
Hufflepuff house, a house that was famous for its less-able students.   
  
  
Many students picked up subjects quickly, particulary James Potter, Lily Evans, and their  
band of miscreants. Potter I especially envied because of his good looks, and his particular   
skill at Transfiguration. Lily, a mere Muggle born, no less, excelled at Charms. I especially   
hated Lily, that stupid Mudblood(A/N-I hate that word) that did not even come from a wizard   
family and yet she still surpassed me in every subject. Me, coming from a long line of wizards!   
It was noticed early on that I was a Squib, a wizard born with little or no magical power. What  
would my father say? I'd be the shame of the family. I can still recite the Howler he sent me   
upon discovering the awful truth.  
  
  
"A SQUIB! A SQUIB! I WON'T BELIEVE IT! NO SON OF MINE CAN EVER BE A SQUIB! DON'T BOTHER  
COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS OR EASTER HOLIDAYS!! AND YOU MIGHT WANT TO ASK ABOUT STAYING AT THE  
CASTLE OVER SUMMER AS WELL! AS OF NOW, YOU ARE NO LONGER A MALFOY!! I HEREBY ORDER YOU TO CHANGE  
YOUR NAME, SO YOU CAN NO LONGER DISGRACE OUR PRESTIGIOUS FAMILY TITLE!! YOU COULD TAKE A LESSON   
FROM YOUR OLDER BROTHER LUCIUS, BOY!! I DOUBT HE'LL EVER WANT TO HEAR YOUR NAME MENTIONED AGAIN  
EITHER! FROM NOW ON, STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!! WE NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!"  
  
  
Well, once I got that Howler, that was it for my pathetic life at school. I was harrassed  
non-stop by the majority of the school. My brother's Slytherin friends followed me around   
the school, taunting me, sometimes even jinxing me, calling me a Squib and a failure.   
  
  
Squib...I hate that name. It still haunts me even to this day. I can still hear my brother's  
friends, Crabbe and Goyle (A/N-the parents of the current Crabbe and Goyle) calling me that all day  
through the corridors.   
  
  
"Squib! Squib! From now on we're going to call you Filch, because you'd love to filch   
someone else's powers, you Squib!"  
  
  
Most of the teachers treated me same as the other students, and I failed everything first term.   
But Headmaster Dumbledore, bless his heart,took pity on me. He often made time for special   
one-on-one lessons with me, just to help me keep up with the rest of the first years. It made   
little difference. I continued to fail everything throughout my years at that wretched castle. Then, in my fifth year, I decided enough was enough. There was  
no way I could get enough O.W.L's to continue at the school anyway. I dropped out during Christmas  
of my fifth year. Dumbledore, however, still refused to give up on me. He let me stay at the   
castle as assistant caretaker to Apollyon Pringle. I would learn everything I needed from him to  
stay employed at Hogwarts. Once Pringle retired, I was to take over as caretaker to the castle.  
  
  
Wrenching my mind from thoughts of my horrid past, I returned to the problem at hand. The Potter  
boy, so like his father, fighting in the corridors with.......Draco Malfoy, the nephew who does not  
even know his uncle exists. I suspect if he did, he would treat me with the same contempt as his  
father does. I rush over to the dueling fifth years. I can hear what Malfoy is shouting to Potter.  
  
  
"Give it up, Potter! Why are you protecting this stupid Squib anyway? He's not worth the time nor  
effort! Besides, what can he do for you in return? Try to send you an owl of thanks but instead  
turn it green?"  
  
  
"Neville can be my friend, Malfoy! But you wouldn't know anything about true friends, your   
father buys all of yours for you!"  
  
  
I briefly cringed at the word "Squib" but snapped back to reality when I saw both boys draw  
their wands. Stepping in the middle, I grabbed them both and shouted, "No fighting in the corridors!  
Twenty points from Gryffindor and twenty from Slytherin! Now don't make me make it any more!"  
  
  
I heard both boys swear at me from under their breath, but they both ran off to classes. I  
went up to Longbottom, who looked a little shaken but otherwise in fine condition. I took pity on  
this boy, he reminded me so much of myself as a young Hogwarts student. It was nice that he had   
friends such as Potter, Weasley, and Granger. Sometimes I feel like my only friend in the world  
is my cat. The sweet Mrs. Norris, she never would and never has abandoned me, unlike my family.  
  
  
"Longbottom, you'd better get to class. Go on, run off now."   
  
  
Deep down, I hoped this boy would succeed where I had failed.  



End file.
